Rumination
by AliasesAndAlterEgos
Summary: Formally One and the Same; A series of one-shot prompts delving into the thoughts and feelings of the citizens of Townsville. Some themes were used from WaterAngel-Alyssa's 100 theme challenge, others requested, and the rest from my own imagination.
1. Alone

**(A/N):** This never ending story project is something I've decided to do as a result of a massive writer's block. For MBFB's readers: DON'T WORRY! I am still continuing it, it's just that the next chapter is a bitch to write. When I finally post it up, you'll find a complete list of excuses waiting for you there lol.

So until I can get over my block and for fun, I will be doing this series of one-shots with any person, any prompt, any pairing, no questions asked.

So, do you have anything in particular you'd like me to write about? Just leave a review with the person/pairing, a word/phrase prompt and a summary! Of course, some will take longer than most, so bear with me.

I hope you guys enjoy and will join me on this journey!^^

**Disclaimer:** For this chapter and all the upcoming ones, please note that The Powerpuff Girls and any other franchises used do not belong to me.

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><p><strong>Prompt: <strong>_Alone_

**Fandom: **_The Powerpuff Girls_

**Pairing: **_Butch x Buttercup__** [potential]**_

**Genre: **_Comfort_

**Rating: **_K to K+_

**Age: **_5 years old_

**Point of View:** _Third Person Limited_

**Other: **_Their eyes and heads are normal and they have all appendages; No superpowers_

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><p>Buttercup stomped away from her sisters and the Professor and towards the swings of Townville Park. She couldn't believe how judgmental Blossom was being. So what if she cheated on Ms. Keane's last math test? Blossom's always lecturing her about good grades so she did what she had to do to get them.<p>

She needed to pass, and she did.

Shouldn't Blossom be happy about that?

"It's all her fault! Stupid sister! If she didn't have to brag about her stupid grades all the time, then I wouldn't have to cheat! I'm perfectly fine with my C plus average," Buttercup grumbled. She continued her rant all the way to the swings, but stopped when she noticed the swing area was abandoned of all life, aside from a lone figure occupying one of them. She instinctively scowled as she recognized the spiky, raven-haired boy.

"At least I'm doing better than him," Buttercup grumbled, still scowling at the boy. "All he gets are F's."

His jade green eyes were glaring at a spot on the ground as he pushed himself slightly on the swing every once in a while. His black sneakers scuffed the ground and Buttercup watched as his hands repeatedly clenched and unclenched around the swing's chain. His forest green and black shirt was rumpled and hung over his black jeans.

Buttercup kept her scowl on her face as she willed herself not to be deterred by the boy's presence. She came to swing, and she planned to do exactly that. Holding her chin up, she stomped over to the swing set and occupied the swing beside the boy—more out of spite than any real desire.

"Get out," he grunted, not looking away from the ground. Buttercup deepened her scowl and ignored the boy, instead pushing herself on the swing. She used what strength she had as a normal five year old girl to try to push herself higher.

"I said get out Butterbutt," the boy said, a bit louder as he tore his gaze away from the ground and to the swinging girl.

"Make me Butchie boy," Buttercup challenged, bringing her swinging to a stop. She twisted her figure a bit towards the triplet and furrowed her brow as he looked away from her.

"Why are ya here by yourself anyways?" Buttercup asked. "Where are your brothers?"

"None of your business."

"It's my business if I want it to be dum-dum," Buttercup said, rolling her eyes. She turned away from the boy and was about to start swinging again when he suddenly shot up and blocked her view.

"Move dum-dum. Unless you want me to kick you," she threatened, moving back. Butch scowled darkly and pushed her off the swing just as she pushed forward.

"I am not a dum-dum!" he yelled, standing over the fallen girl. Buttercup got up and glared at him as she wiped the dirt from her dress.

"You sure act like one!" she said, "When have you ever gotten above an F?"

"Shut up!" he yelled, throwing a punch. Buttercup ducked and aimed one of her own at his stomach. Butch doubled over, his breath lost.

"It's not like you're doing better!" he exclaimed, "You had to cheat!"

"Even if I don't cheat, I'm still smarter than you!"

"Are not!"

"Are too!"

"Are not!"

"Are too!"

"Are not!"

"Are not!" Buttercup exclaimed.

"Are too!" Butch yelled. He paused when he realized what he said and blushed, turning as red as a tomato. He sneered at the smirking girl and clenched his fists.

"Ah, who cares!" he said. He stalked away and sat back down on one of the swings. Buttercup followed him and he scowled as she took the swing beside him.

"Ya didn't answer my question," she said, turning to face him once more.

"Why do you care?" he grumbled. "You like 'em or somethin'?"

"Ew, no," she said, scrunching her nose. The thought of having anything similar to a crush on his brothers immediately disgusted her.

"I'm here alone just 'cause."

"Ya sure?"

"Yes mom." Butch rolled his eyes and started staring at a spot in the ground. Buttercup followed his line of sight and saw a small ant colony marching, each carrying a bread crumb.

"I thought ya were here 'cause of the last test," Buttercup said, watching as one ant accidentally dropped his crumb. He rushed to pick it up and re-enter the line. "Y'know, the one I cheated on?"

"Why would I be here for that, stupid?" he spat, never tearing his eyes away from the ants.

"I dunno. Probably 'cause you failed and Brick started spazzing."

"How do you know I failed?"

"You always fail."

"Shut up! Don't try to act like you understand!"

"I do understand. Stupid."

"Nuh-uh, 'cause you always pass! Plus, Brick thinks he's a super genius or somethin' and always bugs me about my grades."

"Doesn't he only get C's?"

"Exactly."

"Y'know Butchie boy, you think I don't understand, but I do." Buttercup tore her gaze away from the colony and looked at the spiky haired boy.

"Shuddup," he mumbled.

"No, dum-dum. Since Blossom's always Ms. Perfect, she always nags at me for my grades. That's why I cheated."

"And your stupid self got caught."

"That's not the point, idiot."

"What is?" he asked, finally giving eye contact. The green eyed girl smiled and rose from the swings.

"You're not alone," she said. She turned and ran away from the boy and towards the departing Professor and her sisters. She looked back and waved before walking away with her family.

Butch smiled.


	2. Blood

**(A/N):** Hey guys. I'm still in a bit of a block **[I honestly have no idea what to do for MBFB. I know what the chapter should be about but after that…nothing]** so here's chapter two of One and the Same. I want to thank those of you who read it and I hope you'll continue to read and review!

**Review Replies**

**cartoonlover03: **=DDDDD I love them!

**ppgrulz123: **Thank you so much!

Thanks to **xStoryyXFeenx **for adding this story to their faves!

This chapter is dedicated to **ppgrulz123** who wanted a Reds fic. Hope you like tragedies^^!

Confession time! I cried while making this *shot*

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><p><strong>Prompt: <strong>_Blood_

**Fandom: **_The Powerpuff Girls_

**Pairing: **_Brick x Blossom __**[should've, would've, could've, but didn't]**_

**Genre: **_Tragedy_

**Rating: **_T_

**Age: **_16 years old_

**Point of View:** _First Person_

**Other: **_Their eyes and heads are normal and they have all appendages._

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><p><em>It's sticky and flowing through our veins.<em>

_No matter the myth, its true color will always be red._

_It has a taste of copper._

_Humans can't smell it, but I can._

_Maybe that's because I'm not human._

_It has a salty smell. Almost rust-like._

_Blood._

_It's disgusting, but a part of life. A part of my life._

_That was one disadvantage of being a super heroine. More often than not, blood is spilt during a battle, be it from a cut, a lost tooth or a large gash or wound. _

_Buttercup usually told me not to worry about it. "We've been fighting for eleven years, Red. If you're not used to the blood yet, when will you ever be?"_

_But what she doesn't know is that I try, so very hard, not to dwell on the blood flying from me or from my opponent of the day. The cynic in me can't help but think, a couple more of these fights and one of us will eventually die of blood loss._

"_I don't think that's possible," Bubbles had once said. "Wouldn't the Chemical-X heal us before it got that far?"_

_As naïve as it may sound, it made sense. The Chemical in our system usually healed us quickly, mending cuts and bruises in a couple of minutes and repairing broken bones in a matter of days._

"_And besides," Buttercup added, "Blondie here fought for a top notch medical staff at the prison. If the villains we fight ended up with blood levels below normal, they can always do one of those blood transfusion thingies."_

_And so, my dislike of blood was briefly conquered by the thought that they'll be okay._

_I was better off worrying._

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><p>A pair of red eyebeams shot towards his figure and he dodged, moving to the side. He clutched his shoulder immediately after and I noted that his red button-up was ripped through, a stream of blood running down the length of his arm. His dodging was too slow and the eyebeams managed to nick him in the arm. I winced a bit at the blood but immediately shook it off. He'll be fine.<p>

"What's the matter, Brick?" I called. A bit of taunting couldn't hurt. "Can't keep up?"

He sneered and flicked the blood accumulated on his hand to the side. I snuck another glance at his shoulder and breathed a sigh at the pink, healing skin. I was right, he'll be fine.

I turned my attention back to the battle in time to block a fist soaring towards my face. I grabbed the offending hand and flipped the Red Rowdyruff to the ground. He coughed and wheezed, as debris and a cloud of dust flew around him.

"I," Brick gasped, "I can't do this…not anymore." He clutched my hand in his and began shaking where he lay. My brow furrowed and my eyes widened with worry as his convulsions increased.

"Brick…?" I called. I knelt at his body and held him as he tried to calm down. "Brick, what's wrong?"

"Chemical-X doesn't heal everything, y'know," he said.

"What do you mean?" I urged him to continue. "Talk to me, Brick."

"I mean, it heals our cuts and bruises and can even mend broken bones. But, you know what? I doubt it can heal brain damage."

"Brick…"

"Or a damaged kidney."

"Brick, stop. The fact that we don't get sick often is proof enough that it can _prevent_ those things."

"I doubt it. Not everyone has an ulcer, Blossom."

"What are you saying?" I whispered. I swallowed a growing lump in my throat as the hot prickle of forming tears settled behind my eyes. I assessed the boy in my arms and took in his long, lifeless red hair, covered by his trademark cap. I drank in his sallow, graying skin and his listless red eyes. Brick glanced at me and attempted a small smile.

"I'm dying, Blossom," he said, chuckling darkly. The tears escaped and sprinkled his body as I vigorously shook my head.

"N-no, you're not!" I cried, "Y-you can't be! You're not!"

"I am," he said. He squeezed my hand as a form of reassurance. Whether this was for himself or for me, I wasn't sure. "And I doubt Him will bring me back this time."

"H…I don't…how?"

"It's like I said; Chemical-X doesn't heal everything. With every battle, my…" he paused to start a coughing fit and I immediately started patting his back. "…My blood levels have diminished…. I can't keep up anymore, Pinky."

If the situation weren't so grim, I would've cracked a smile at the sound of the old nickname. Instead, I quietly sobbed and held Brick tighter.

"T-the prison!" I gasped, remembering the medical staff. "T-they can d-do a blood transfusion!" A small glimmer of hope lit up my heart. He'll be okay. He _has_ to be.

"We tried that already," Brick groaned. "We're not human, remember? We have a whole new blood type that isn't compatible with the others."

"T-transfuse with your brothers."

"I could never do that. Don't you see, Bloss?" he said, urging me to understand. "They're dying too. Who's to say they're not dead right now? Transfusing with them will do nothing but save me and kill them."

"Transfuse with me!" I cried, "And y-your brothers, they can t-transfuse with my s-sisters!" Brick gave me a bleak smile and shakily removed his cap to place it on my head. It was at that moment, any and all hope in my heart was extinguished.

"It's too late," he said. "Don't ever forget me, okay? Goodbye, Blossom."

With a final shudder, Brick closed his eyes and passed away, a small smile on his face. I hugged the boy that I had considered to be my arch-nemesis at one point and cried, my wails resounding through all of Townsville.

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><p><em>You were wrong, sisters.<em>


	3. Dream

**(A/N):** Hello, hello, hello! This chapter of One and the Same would've been up sooner but I just went on a trip to Canada to visit family. I'm back now though! So please enjoy! Again, I want to thank those who continue to read and review! And please, send in those requests!

**Review Replies**

**ppgrulz123: **Thank you so much! Your review made me smile XD!

Thanks to **ppgrulz123 **for adding this story to their faves!

I'm not really happy with this but still, RR&R! (Read, Review and Request!)

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><p><strong>Prompt: <strong>_Dream_

**Fandom: **_The Powerpuff Girls_

**Pairing: **_Boomer x Bubbles __**[one-sided]**_

**Genre: **_Hurt. Can also be interpreted as Angst._

**Rating: **_K—T _

**Age: **_16 years old_

**Point of View: **_Second Person_

**Other: **_Their eyes and heads are normal and they have all appendages._

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><p>She has perfect, acne-free skin.<p>

You have a new blemish every other day.

Her eyes are bright, big and blue.

Yours are a navy blue and reminds people of the color of a pair of blue uniform pants. You must feel proud having eyes that represents the bane of every High School student's existence.

She has pink, pouty lips.

Yours are thin and often chapped.

Luscious blonde hair.

Do you even need to mention the greasy mass that is your hair?

A nice, petite and athletic figure.

You're athletic too, but also very skinny. It's a wonder people don't ask if you're anorexic.

She has it all. You don't.

And of course, because of that, she is the most sought after girl in Townsville High, while you are barely noticed.

She is a cheerleader.

You are a wannabe musician.

She's an artist.

The only art you ever do involves you and your brothers attempting to create complex smoke rings.

She's smart, but has her moments.

Is smart even in your vocabulary? It's a miracle you even know the word 'complex.'

Innocent.

You? Innocent? What a joke.

Kind.

You wish.

Generous.

No comment.

She is everything you want and don't want to be. She is everything you want to call yours.

Who really needs friends? Certainly not you. They always end up leaving at one point.

Although, one would be nice.

Extracurricular activities, who needs them? You could always threaten the college admissions director.

But it could be fun; a nice way to make that one friend.

Kindness? Generosity? Where would that get anyone in life? Your brothers always say that kindness was for the weak.

But it was always "the weak" that beat you up at every crime scene.

You watch as she giggles and walks away happily with her friends, ready to start her cheerleading practice.

You watch as she twirls a blonde pigtail as the group passes you, too involved in their conversation to notice your presence.

She is too beautiful. Too nice. Too generous. Too perfect.

She is too out of your reach.

She is only a dream.


	4. Crack

**(A/N):** Hey everyone! This chapter of One and the Same is a short, and I mean _short_, drabble. Again, I want to thank those who continue to read and review! And please, send in those requests!

**Review Replies**

**ppgrulz123: **Haha, yeah. No one wants to be friends with criminals apparently. Lol, he'd appreciate the help. Thanks! You'd be surprised at how many people visit it and read **[cough200!cough]**. I don't mind the lack of reviews, but if you wanna advertise my story to your friends, I'm not gonna stop you **[wink, wink, nudge, nudge]**! Thanks!

Thanks to **fearlessgurl101 **for adding this story to their alerts!

I've recently put up a poll pertaining to my other story, **My Boy Fast Blog**. Please answer it if you've the time. I need it to write the next chapter.

**RR&R!** (Read, Review and Request!)

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><p><strong>Prompt: <strong>_Crack_

**Fandom: **_The Powerpuff Girls_

**Pairing: **_Boomer x Bubbles_

**Genre: **_Romance._

**Rating: **_T __**[suggestive themes]**_

**Age: **_23 years old_

**Point of View: **_First Person_

**Other: **_Their eyes and heads are normal and they have all appendages; They're married._

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><p>One hundred and thirty-seven.<p>

That's how many cracks there were in the ceiling of the beach house we'd rented.

I focused my navy blue eyes and felt my pupils dilate, decreasing in size. It seemed I've miscounted. There was one more crack on the lower right corner of the ceiling. That made it one hundred and thirty-eight.

One hundred and thirty-eight cracks in the ceiling.

My eyes increased to its normal size as the beauty beside me stirred in her sleep. Her luminous blonde hair was let out of their usual pigtails and fanned out behind her on the white pillow. I smiled softly as I noted that her soft, cherubic skin was covered with a light sheen of sweat from the actions we'd just partaken in.

My smile turned rueful as I realized she would never be able to take back what happened.

The innocence that had made her so endearing, so untouchable, was gone.

No longer was she pure.

"You worry too much Boomie. I've told you before, I want this," she had said, moments before. "I want to share everything with you and this is one of them."

I sighed as images from the night before flooded my brain.

Skin on skin meshing together, trying to lose any and all space in between.

My lips on hers, bruising as they danced hungrily without relief.

Her hands roaming my body and leaving scratches on my back.

My hands roaming her body intimately; exploring every crevice, discovering every secret.

Our cries of pleasure as we became one.

There were one hundred and thirty-eight cracks in the ceiling, but that didn't matter.

What mattered was how they got there.


	5. Simple

**(A/N):** Hellooooo! This chapter of One and the Same is one of my favorites. Again, I want to thank those who continue to read and review! And please, send in those requests!

**Review Replies**

**fearlessgurl101: **OMG I cannot thank you enough for your kind words! I love the fact that you think I'm original and stand out from the other authors on fanfiction. You're way too kind^^! Thank you so much!

**ppgrulz123: **Lol yeah. It wasn't gonna be that much originally, but then I thought, "They're super-strong. Duh, GeeGee." Thanks so much!

This chapter is for **ppgrulz123** who wanted a Greens fic! I hope I did them justice! And don't worry, there's no tragedy this time, lol.

I've recently put up a poll pertaining to my other story, **My Boy Fast Blog**. Please answer it if you've the time. I need it to write the next chapter.

**RR&R!** (Read, Review and Request!)

**Fun Fact:** Each prompt used, I stole from a 100 Theme Challenge I was doing whenever I got the urge. The stories weren't stolen though and you guys are helping me finish it! I'm not kidding, I only did one prompt before this story^^'.

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><p><strong>Prompt: <strong>_Simple_

**Fandom: **_The Powerpuff Girls_

**Pairing: **_Butch x Buttercup_

**Genre: **_Romance __**[if you stick your neck out and squint]**_

**Rating: **_T __**[language]**_

**Age: **_17 years old_

**Point of View: **_Third Person Limited_

**Other: **_Their eyes and heads are normal and they have all appendages._

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><p>When he was born, their relationship was simple.<p>

He would get the order to rob a store, her and her stupid sisters would fly in and he'd fight with her, then leave, licking his wounds, and then fume about how stupid she was. It was a process; rob, fly, fight, leave, fume then repeat. It was predictable and safe—traits that his life was seriously lacking. He embraced the process, because it gave him that one sliver of stability he needed.

Then when his fathers disowned him and his brothers at age eight, that sliver grew into a mass almost as big as the blonde chick's heart (he swore the Grinch had nothing on her) because the hot redhead that worked for the Mayor adopted them soon after.

Of course, that didn't mean he didn't repeat the process. He loved the process.

The hot redhead had other ideas.

She enrolled them in some piece of shit school called Pokey Oaks Elementary. How was he going to rob, fly, fight, leave, fume then repeat if he went to school and had to study all the time? Going to school threw the process out of whack, especially since he was told that he didn't even _need_ to rob anymore because she would provide everything. The process was nothing without robbing and general evil-doing. So he did what anyone else in his shoes would do.

He began a new process.

Robbing a store turned into arguing with her. Her flying in turned into her scowling. Fight stayed the same, thank god. His leaving turned into detention for them both. Fume turned into twitch (he seriously thought he grew out of that) as he waited for the next day to repeat it all. Argue, scowl, fight, detention, twitch then repeat. He learned to embrace it, this new process.

It was simple. He liked simple.

Then somehow, someway, through means he'd never be able to explain no matter how many times he thought about it, the two of them became best friends by the time they were thirteen. It was a shock to their siblings, their guardians, the student body, the school faculty, and just about every freaking living thing, mutant or otherwise, living in the City of Townsville. Seriously, how the hell did that happen?

Regardless of the how's and why's of their newfound relationship, he was happy with it. He didn't think it could be possible, but it made everything simpler. Even the process became simpler: hang out, care for, love (like a sister) then repeat. Simple. He liked simple.

Then they enrolled in Townsville High School and things turned hard.

Suddenly, he discovered that even kids who were once chemically made, bug-eyed blobs could have hormones and feelings and all this _normal, human shit_. By the time he turned fifteen he noticed all of these things about her—like how she stuck out her tongue and curled it when she concentrated or how she talked too much when she was nervous, or how she _always, always, always_ had this one single strand of hair in her face, but she _never gave a damn_—little, insignificant things that _no one else_ seemed to notice.

It was _stupid_ and it was _hard_. He missed it when things were simple.

Then they turned sixteen and everything just went down the drain.

How was he supposed to stop her from dating her first best friend? How was he supposed to halt the disgusting "I love you's" they exchanged? How was he supposed to prevent the heartbreak she endured later, and in turn, prevent himself from beating the shaggy haired bitch (who does not rock, by the way) to a pulp?

He shouldn't have had to see her cry, over a boy much less. He shouldn't have felt so strongly about her dating anything with a penis that wasn't him. He shouldn't have had feelings for her.

And he couldn't, for the life of him, figure out how was he supposed to stop.

She dated occasionally, and that meant more break-ups, more beatings and more heartache, for him. Have you ever felt heartache? He'd be the first to tell you that it isn't fucking fun.

And then, his blonde brother got in his face and basically told him to _grow a pair_ and tell her how he felt, although he _really_ shouldn't talk considering he always blushed whenever the blonde chick so much as looked at him. Seriously, who the fuck _blushed_ nowadays?

Plus there was the fact that telling someone you loved them was the hardest fucking thing in the whole fucking world. That was the type of shit that had to be planned _years_ ahead of time and planning's not his thing. He was more of an act now, think later kind of guy.

"I love you" was not simple, and he fucking lived for simple.

Fast forward to one year later and things got so much more difficult, he wanted to cry. Where the fuck was the simplicity?

That was the year, at her seventeenth birthday party, that he just _had_ to blurt the stupid "I love you." She just stood there, her pretty, jade-green eyes wide and cute, little mouth open. What the fuck was he thinking? Seriously.

They didn't speak for two months after that, but that was more his fault. He decided to get into a grueling, one-sided game of hide-and-seek, which he promptly lost when she tackled him in the park the minute he let down his guard. What the hell?

It took everything he had not to jump back up (not like he could anyway. She had him pinned) and haul ass.

Then things got _even more_ difficult when she started spewing all of the same "I love you" junk and they kissed.

Well, the kiss wasn't difficult. He liked the kiss.

Now they're dating and so in love and he couldn't be happier, except that motherfucking simplicity that evaded him since puberty never came back. Now he has to feel the full brunt of her anger, her sadness—and oh god, don't even get him started on her periods. They weren't even fucking _human_, how the hell could she get her period?

Nothing about them or their relationship was simple anymore and he wished that it was. He needed the simplicity. He thrived on—

Butch stopped his internal rant and looked up when he felt the softness of her lips on his cheek.

"Hey," Buttercup smiled, the edges of her jade-green eyes crinkling slightly. It was just one of those things he noticed.

"Hey," he said, returning the smile. She ran a hand through her short, choppy hair, somehow managing to completely bypass that single strand in her face and placed the other on her hip.

"There's this giant monster on Main that none of us can defeat. You wanna help?" she asked, cocking her head to the side. "It won't be simple, but we could use you."

He nodded and grinned as he got a twitch in his eye at the thought of a hard-ass monster fight when they flew away.

He didn't do simple anyway.


	6. Top

**(A/N): **I feel horrible for never updating. It's not fair to you guys, but it's also not my fault that sometimes life screws me over. Nevertheless, here's an update now!

**Review Replies**

**Hermeown:** ldsdfkjkflds I know I PM'd you but the fact that you reviewed my story will never cease to amaze me. I'm so glad you caught the pronoun trouble! ddfsfhjjfjhf Oh man, you liked Blood? I personally thought it wasn't all that good, and that I could do it so much better, but thank you so much! Ahhhhh I liked Dream too. It was my first or second time writing in second person point of view so thank you! jdsfkjdfdf Crack was so much fun to write. I honestly did not plan for it to go that way, but I loved the way it turned out. The last revelation kills me everytime! kljfsdfkf Thanks so much for your reviews!

Thanks to **Hermeown **for adding this story to their faves and alerts, and for adding me to their author faves and alerts! Thank you!

This chapter is dedicated to **ppgrulz123** who wanted a Reds fic! Hope you enjoy!

**Fun Fact:** I have a tumblr. You guys should follow me, hehe.

**RR&R! (Read, Review and Request)**

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><p><strong>Prompt: <strong>_Top_

**Fandom: **_The Powerpuff Girls_

**Pairing/Protag.: **_Blossom x Brick_

**Genre: **_General/Romance __**[if you stick your neck out and squint]**_

**Rating: **_T **[For suggestive themes]**_

**Age: **_At least 20 years old_

**Point of View: **_Third Person Limited_

**Other: **_Their eyes and heads are normal and they have all appendages._

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><p>He grabbed at her hair, reveling in the soft whimper and moans escaping her lips.<p>

Hungrily, he set his own lips on her neck, kissing and biting the area, and definitely leaving a mark.

His big hands roamed everywhere, grabbing and caressing, squeezing and rubbing.

He cherished these little moments they shared. These moments where he had, even a snippet of, control.

For as long as he could remember, she was the one to always best him.

It began when they were children, and she constantly taunted him with her vast vocabulary, knowing he wouldn't understand half of what she was saying. What five year old knew what 'insubordination' was anyway?

He tried to catch up to her, enrolling himself and his brother in Pokey Oaks Elementary. He studied his ass off, and worked hard as hard as he could, but she continued to win.

When he got an A on a paper, she got an A plus.

When he passed an exam with a perfect score, she went beyond that. Fucking extra credit.

When he was salutatorian, she was valedictorian.

He settled in between her legs and looked down at her, red eyes meeting pink. For as long as he could remember, she was the one always looking down on him.

With a smirk, he held her wrists to the sheets, pinning her as he set his lips on hers.

But right here, in the bedroom, he topped.


	7. Stupid

**(A/N): **I don't really have anything to say! Just review guys! As much as I enjoy how many of you are reading and faving, I can't get better without constructive criticism, and I also need requests to do other chapters! So, send in the reviews!

Also, I scrapped the former chapter 6, Reflection. I'll use it again later, in another story. Maybe.

Thanks to **Razoraider** and **waiiren **for adding this story to their faves and to **waiiren** and **becomingemo** to adding it to their alerts!

**Fun Fact:** I have a LiveJournal. You guys should friend me, hehe.

**RR&R! (Read, Review and Request)**

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><p><strong>Prompt: <strong>_Stupid_

**Fandom: **_The Powerpuff Girls_

**Pairing/Protag.: **_Mojo Jojo **[with Moko Jono/Michelle]**_

**Genre: **_Hurt/Angst_

**Rating: **_T_

**Age: **_Current Age __**[I'll leave that for you to decide]**_

**Point of View: **_Second Person_

**Other: **_N/A_

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><p>There's an old, faded, dog-eared picture in your hands. It's of two figures; the first is you—that's obvious—but the second is a lost love. Can that term even be used if the feelings weren't reciprocated? You doubt it. Clad in all white, the two of you are all smirks in the picture. You wonder if that smile was also part of her act.<p>

Remember when the two of you painted the town red?

You had your escapades all around Townsville, causing evil, and forcing all to remember the name, Mojo Jo—er, you mean, The Beat-Alls.

What a stupid name for a stupid band made of stupid people.

No, you sigh, you were the stupid one.

You let her be in control.

Really, how could you think that screaming on the sidewalk would be a great plan? What about the genius idea of sleeping in a giant bed in the middle of the street? Or, better yet, what about stealing all-white items from the grocery market? "It's all right because it's all white".

Stupid.

Yeah, that's you.

She had you wrapped around her white glove-covered finger. You were her slave, her pawn in her game of justice and good and the downfall of evil. You unwillingly praise her for her performance. It was truly evil, playing with your emotions as she did.

She knew you were lonely. She knew you wanted attention. A companion. A friend.

She knew this and she used it to her advantage.

_Michelle_. The name still leaves a bitter taste on your tongue.

Moko. Moko Joj—er, _Moko Jono_. You like this alias better.

She never loved you, let alone liked you. She thought you were awful. You gave a bad name to all monkeys everywhere.

With a final sigh, you put the picture away under your helmet and grab the nearest ray gun. You wonder what's for lunch at the prison today. Probably chili.

You push any and all thoughts of the female back to the recesses of your mind and heart, where they belong, and venture outside. You hear a faint cry of 'Why?' somewhere in the park and suddenly your stomach wrenches.

As you head towards the bank, you hear a chorus of 'This is a stick up!' emanate from elsewhere and suddenly there's a lump in your throat.

You try to clear your throat as you order the teller to put the money in the bag.

"Now give me money," you say, "That's what I want."

You wait for the familiar streaks of Pink, Blue, and Green, barely putting up a fight as you're beaten and dropped off in Jail.

As you lay on your cot that night, you remove the picture from under your helmet and stare at it as you bite back sobs and loud, heartbreaking screeches.

As much as it pains your monkey heart to admit defeat, to show weakness, to lose all dignity and pride, you know it's true and it has to be said, if only once.

You miss her.


	8. Kid

**(A/N): **Welcome to another installment of Rumination, formerly known as One and the Same! This isn't my best chapter; I sort of cranked it out just for the sake of updating. As a matter of fact, it's unfinished, heh. Hopefully you guys won't be able to tell.

I got some new followers for this story, so I'd just like to thank you guys! Your support means a lot.

Anyhoo, please read, review, and request/suggest some prompts and pairings you'd like to see!

**Fun Fact:** I will not be doing fun facts anymore whoops

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><p><strong>Prompt: <strong>_Kid_

**Fandom: **_The Powerpuff Girls_

**Pairing/Protag.: **_Ace [with Buttercup]_

**Genre: **_General/Romance [if you stick your neck out and squint]_

**Rating: **_T_

**Age: **_Ace is 25, Buttercup is 17_

**Point of View: **_Third Person Limited_

**Other: **_N/A, aside from the norm_

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><p>"Yer just a kid."<p>

Ace remembered saying those words to her when she was nothing more than a bug-eyed, five year-old, and he, an awkward fourteen year old who was knocking on puberty's door (the green skin didn't help much) and who thought he was all that and a bag of chips.

_And she _was_ a kid_, he mused, as the clack of his pool stick meeting the cue ball resounded around the Otto Time Diner. _She had a big ol' head, and was extremely underdeveloped. Her fingers didn't even grow in yet._

That didn't seem to stop her, however, and before he knew it (and he still didn't understand the why's or how's) she developed a crush on him. He supposed that even the good girls fell for the bad boys, and he definitely used her buttercrush to his advantage.

Or well, he did until she caught on to his little game and, in turn, beat the living snot out of him.

She may have been a kid, but damn if she couldn't fight like a man.

Ace watched, leaning against the wall, as Buttercup took her turn. They began this daily meet-up a couple of years ago, when they spotted each other at the diner and he challenged her to a game of pool. Of course, he mopped the floor with her, but it was a fleeting victory. She was just a kid, only ten at the time. However, since then, she has definitely stepped up her game. She now wins most of the time, much to his disdain.

His eyes studied the Puff as she bent over the pool table to line up her shot, the curves of her breasts exposed over her tank top. His twenty-five year old body reacted accordingly, reminding him that she wasn't a kid anymore. She was older, with killer curves he'd never have thought she—the tomboy—would ever get. Her hair was longer, her body was toned, and her vocabulary was colorful.

She most definitely wasn't a kid anymore, and his shuffling proved his case.

She was a minor, and that made things just a bit more interesting.


	9. Normal

**(A/N): **I'm not back, but I'm not gone either.

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><p><strong>Prompt: <strong>_Normal_

**Fandom: **_The Powerpuff Girls_

**Pairing/Protag.: **_Can interchange between PPG and RRB_

**Genre: **_General/Hurt/Angst_

**Rating: **_T_

**Age: **_Eh idc you choose_

**Point of View: **_Second Person_

**Other: **_N/A_

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><p>Children can be so cruel, and you came to learn that throughout adolescence. How was it that young impressionable minds can be so set on hating whatever didn't look like them? They hated the old, the adult, and had no qualms in hating even the African-American, or the Asian.<p>

They definitely had no qualms in hating the fingerless, bug-eyed, super-powered experiments.

You aren't even human, they used to say. And you will never know what it feels like to be one of us. You're not even real.

What hurts the most was that they were right—or at least you thought they were, all your life.

You and your siblings stuck with one another, because what else were you supposed to do?

You used to be praised, revered, and even feared. You were respected among the community for your power. You were loved.

What happened to that?

What could have possibly changed in the span from what were essentially your "baby" years to your adolescence?

You silently cried for hours on end at night, which was hard to do when you and your siblings shared a room and a bed.

You begged for your creator to make you human—to give you fingers, smaller eyes, toes, take away your powers—to do something! Please! You would sob, tears of agony running down you cheeks. You wanted so bad to escape the bullying, to escape the disgusted eyes, the hateful gazes, of everyone around you.

You pleaded, you prayed, you attempted suicide—all to gain nothing when word got out but pity and sympathy and—"ha, can you even die? You aren't even real!"

All you wanted was acceptance in the world. You didn't need to be loved, or adored, or feared. You just wanted to be normal.

You found out the answer to their mocking question soon enough.

Yes, you could die.

And you were very, very real.


End file.
